


the seduction of mairon

by iimpavid



Series: Poetry [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Erotic Poetry, M/M, Metaphors, Metaphysics, Outer Space, Poetry, Spoilers for The Silmarillion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimpavid/pseuds/iimpavid
Summary: after all he was not always as a wolf on arda





	the seduction of mairon

mairon who loved above all things order and justice met melkor--

and entertained him.

held conversation with the dark between worlds because how can we know balance and rightness if we aren't familiar with its antithesis?

 if melkor weren't meant to Be, then eru would have smote him long before now.  

but of course melkor is the one for whom the very concept of silvertongue was invented and, oh,

oh, he spoke such pretty poetry and reason.  

after all he was not always as a wolf on arda; he was the void embodied, yes, but darkness has always been fair in its mystery and the corona of a black hole is the brightest thing in existence. it was no effort to have mairon, the mightiest and cleverest of his kin by far, sitting at his feet to listen.

 mairon spent long on the precipice. too long to be worthwhile to anyone else but melkor was the spirit of hunger and there is no patience like starving. mairon was fairer than any star to break the skin of the world and melkor would possess him if it took all the ages of life to make it so.  

thus, the void waited and the newborn star in his orbit drew in and in and in— ever closer but never down.  

words did not lay the heart of mairon bare but the tongue and teeth and lips that formed them did. bruise-soft and sickle-sharp with every new meeting. sweeter songs on every breath. sharp enough to bend light. he could hardly notice the bleeding.  

and bleed he did. in rivulets gleaming of righteousness and with every cool-fingered caress of melkor’s hand

mairon’s chest heaved—

there would be hope for the world yet and it lay in the palms of their hands.

of _his_ hands.

he could

and

he would—


End file.
